RIPE FOR VENGEANCE

by Wendy Tyson

  Megan said, “They say they don’t use medication, except when absolutely necessary.”

  “They lie.” Donna adjusted her face from a frown to a sardonic smile. “They house sick kids, Megan. Some of them need medication. For some, it probably makes them easier to handle.”

  “Do you mean warehouse?”

  “Your word.” Donna Lewis stood. “Thank you for the coffee. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help. You see, the answer is simple. Someone paid for Dillon to go to that school. After all Dillon had been through, he was a time bomb. He should have been in a psych unit, not out on a camping trip. It was just a matter of time before something like this happened.”

  Megan also stood. She towered over the diminutive reporter, and she used her size to stall Lewis’s exit. “You said someone paid his tuition. I thought the school had a scholarship fund.”

  Donna laughed. “They did at one point, but look into the last time they had a scholarship student. It’s been forever. I told you, these people are in it for themselves—not to help others.”

  Megan thanked her and watched her leave. Who had paid Dillon’s tuition? Eloise? The boys’ parents? But would their money even be available given the circumstances of his mother’s death? She should be able to find that out easily enough—she just needed the courage to ask Eloise directly. If there was still a scholarship fund, she’d think a boy like Dillon would be a shoe-in. And again, she wondered about BOLD’s funding for students who completed the mentoring program. If everyone was rich, no one needed that college money. What was the point? She could ask Martine about that.

  Regardless of the answers, something seemed very odd about the whole arrangement.

  Twenty

  Lou Tillery worked out of a three-floor walk-up in the center of New Hope. New Hope, a charming small Bucks County town along the New Jersey border, was home to an artsy crowd, as evidenced by the small boutiques, art galleries, and craft shops. But there was a practical side to New Hope, and Lou was a stalwart who’d been practicing in the hamlet since before it became trendy. His office was cramped and smelled faintly of pipe tobacco, the kind that wafted off a person who smoked a lot, and curry from the Indian restaurant downstairs.

  Lou’s elderly receptionist/tax preparer/handywoman greeted Megan at the door with a smile. “The boss is on a call, Megan. Is he expecting you?”

  “No, Bernice. But I was in the neighborhood and thought maybe I’d catch him.”

  Bernice glanced backwards, toward Lou’s closed door. “It’s his husband. They could be a while. The Samoyed got loose again, and Lou wants a fence around the yard.”

  Megan had been hearing from Lou year after year how he wanted to fence in their small-town lot, but his husband was against it—too many permits since theirs was an historical home.

  Megan nodded. “I can wait.”

  She didn’t need to wait long. Lou came storming out of his office a few minutes later. The scarlet of his face matched the scarlet on his bald scalp. He stopped short when he saw Megan and laughed.

  “I was just about to start complaining to Bernie here, Megan. I think you saved her. Bernie, you should thank Megan.”

  Bernie smiled the smile of an eternally patient woman. “Thank you, Megan.”

  Lou gave a hearty laugh. “I think I won this time. He’s already calling about the permits. He loves that dog more than he loves me.” Lou opened his office door wider. “Come on in, Megan.”

  This is what Megan loved about Lou. He was always available—even when he wasn’t.

  “How can I help you?”

  She sat in the familiar office, breathing in the ambience. Photos of Lou and his spouse hung next to paintings and photos from their world travels. The faces of Lou’s two beautiful girls looked out at her from one wall. From the other, an array of dog portraits and memorabilia. The room was a homage to her accountant’s eclectic and varied life. He was good at his job, his clients loved him, and he was well-connected.

  She was banking on the latter now.

  “BOLD Pharmaceuticals. Ever hear of it?”

  “Only recently, in the news. That man who was killed. Wasn’t he an employee?”

  Megan nodded. “He was a friend of Denver’s.”

  Lou held up a hand. “I’m not going to lecture you on the dangers of getting involved, Megan. Just tell me what you need. But don’t give me more information than is necessary.” He smiled. “Just kidding. Or not.”

  “BOLD is a private company, so I can’t get much online. Articles of Incorporation, licenses, anything you can find that might show ownership structure.”

  Lou nodded. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

  “I don’t know what I’m looking for. Hopefully I’ll know it when I see it.”

  Lou’s eyes narrowed. “Shots in the dark?”

  “When you don’t have a light, it can be the only way.” Megan started to leave but thought of something else. “Are you familiar with the Pioneer Village School?”

  “That’s where the kid who was with the victim goes to school.”

  “Bingo. Can you see if you can find anything on that as well? Owners. Tax information.”

  Lou agreed. “You know, I have a neighbor whose son went to that school.”

  Megan perked up. “Really?”

  “Alexander Raymond Giles Junior. Too many names for one kid, if you ask me.” Lou frowned. “Parents are divorced now, but his mother would probably be happy to talk to you. She will discuss little Alex with anyone who listens, despite the fact that little Alex is a twenty-four-year-old grown man now.”

  “How can I reach her?”

  “Give me a second.”

  Lou called his husband. After a quick exchange, he hung up. “Dee Dee Giles—that’s her name, poor thing—is home. My husband will see if she’ll speak to you. Give him a few minutes and then you can head over. I know Dee Dee, and I know my husband. It will be fine.”

  Twenty minutes later, Megan was pulling into the Giles’ home on Main Street. A sprawling Victorian, the house had more turrets and porches than Megan could count. The yard was small, but what it lacked in size it made up for in decorations. A bird bath sat to one side of the entrance, surrounded by flowers and a half dozen miniature gnomes. Across the walkway that led to the porch was another flower garden paved with mosaic stones and marked by randomly-placed sculptures, windchimes, and bird feeders. Even with the sullen sky, the combination was welcoming, if a bit overwhelming to the senses.

  A woman sat on the porch. In her early fifties, she wore a flowered sundress and dark sunglasses. Her gray-streaked hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her feet were bare, showing off toenails painted with tiny sunflowers. A pink bracelet on her wrist said “Survivor.”

  “I just love Lou!” the woman called out as a greeting. “A friend of his is a friend of mine.” She met Megan on the steps and held out a hand. “Dolores Giles. Friends call me Dee Dee.” She flashed another smile, one that spoke of an excellent orthodontist and many teeth-whitening sessions. “You can call me Dee Dee. Are you okay with the porch? It’s such a lovely day. I made some tea. I hope you like tea. It’s organic and free trade.”

  Megan sank into a white wicker chair cushioned with a cheerful green and white striped pillow. “Tea would be lovely. Thank you so much for agreeing to talk with me, Dee Dee. You have a beautiful house.”

  “Even more beautiful now that I don’t have to share it with my cheating bastard of an ex-husband. He got syphilis, and I got the house.”

  Dee Dee said this with such airy cheerfulness that Megan almost choked on her tea.

  “Well—”

  “TMI. I know. Little Alex tells me that all of the time. Too much information, Mom. Yeah, yeah. Life is short. Unlike my cheating bastard of an ex-husband, I have nothing to hide.”

  Dee Dee was a lot to handle, but M
egan felt an instant pull. She admired the woman’s spunk.

  After a few minutes of chit chat, Megan broached the subject of the school. “Pioneer Village School, Dee Dee. Lou told me your son went there.”

  “He did. Best decision we ever made.”

  “You were happy with it, then?”

  “Understatement. Saved his life. Not our marriage, but that was unsalvageable, cheating bastard that my ex is.” Dee Dee took a demure sip of her tea. “What do you want to know about the school?”

  “How did the admission process go, what were your son’s schoolmates like, that sort of thing.”

  “Well, let me start by saying that my Alex was a handful. Not a mean kid, but active. Crazy active. When he was young, he was always climbing on things or bothering the dog or taking my stuff apart. We found out later that he had ADHD really bad, and coupled with a crazy high IQ, he was just too much for us to handle.”

  “When did you find the school?”

  “The school found us. When little Alex was sixteen, he was suspended from high school. He’d set off the school’s fire alarm so he could steal chemicals from the chem lab. He got caught. It was his third offense. What could the school do? They had to set limits.”

  Dee Dee said all of this matter-of-factly, as though talking about a shoe sale or a favorite recipe.

  “How did the Pioneer Village School come into play?”

  “About a week after Alex was suspended, I got a call from Dr. Benjamin Star, the school’s psychologist. He suggested a meeting. Thought little Alex might be a good fit for the program.”

  “How had he heard about Alex?”

  “You know, I never asked. At the time, we were at wit’s end and just so grateful to have another option.”

  Megan did the math. This would have been eight years ago, close to the school’s inception and shortly before Cat attended the school.

  “Did you like Dr. Star?”

  Dee Dee’s face lit up. “He’s a brilliant man. Got Alex’s dosage worked out, gave him some tools for dealing with his behavioral issues. Most of all, he challenged Alex. Alex loves to tinker. Dr. Star had him doing graduate-level math and engineering by the time he was a senior. Alex hated English and humanities, so he got to focus on the things he loved.” She clapped. “Presto, Alex’s weaknesses all turned into strengths.”

  Megan wasn’t so sure it was that easy, but she had to admit that Dee Dee seemed to be a true fan.

  “I know this is very personal, but did they offer your son a scholarship to attend?”

  “Heavens, no!” Dee Dee waved at the giant house behind them. “My cheating bastard of an ex-husband was also cheap. Had they offered one, he would have taken it. We didn’t need one, though, and it just never came up. I think some kids may have gotten them. I can’t say for sure.”

  “And the admissions process?”

  “Simple. A battery of aptitude tests, which my Alex passed with flying colors. Some psychological assessments. A conversation with his school counselor.” She shrugged. “Took a week, tops. Painless.”

  Dee Dee was so forthcoming that Megan was afraid to push. The other woman seemed to enjoy the conversation, though, so Megan continued. “How about his school mates, Dee Dee? Were they similar to your son?”

  Dee Dee appeared to give this some thought. “Now that you ask, not really. Alex never made many friends while he was there. Some of the kids had anger issues or severe social anxiety. Some were autistic. The school has both a residential component and a day treatment option. Alex was a day student. Some of the more severe cases lived at the school.”

  Like Cat.

  “Did you hear of violent tendencies? Any outbursts, problems?”

  Dee Dee took off her sunglasses and placed them on a square glass table. “Like the boy who was involved up in the park? I heard he was a Pioneer student.” Dee Dee didn’t wait for an answer. “There were a few problems, but it’s a school for smart kids with issues. Wouldn’t you expect some things to happen here and there?”

  Megan nodded. Her mind flitted back to the fact that the school had reached out to the Giles family.

  “Had Alex gotten into any trouble outside of the school before he was admitted to Pioneer?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Not really.”

  “Nothing that would have caused police involvement?”

  “Just a few minor things—he spray-painted some nonsense words on a bridge, he and a friend were accused of vandalizing an abandoned outbuilding. And then the fire alarm. That was the worst. The fire department dispatched trucks. It was humiliating. The news people came out, we had to pay the town back.” She shook her head at the memory.

  “That must have been awful,” Megan said, her suspicion confirmed. The school must have looked for potential students, kids who could afford the tuition. They would’ve learned about Alex in the media.

  “Want to see a picture of my Alex?” Dee Dee asked, brightening.

  “Of course.”

  Dee Dee disappeared inside the house. She returned carrying a photo album. On the cover was a photo of a rosy-cheeked infant with a shock of red hair. Dee Dee skimmed through the book and then held it out toward Megan.

  “This is Alex at fifteen.”

  The picture she shared showed a short, slender young man with cherry-red hair.

  “May I?”

  Dee Dee handed Megan the album, and Megan started paging through it. It was in chronological order. Megan saw the cheating bastard ex-husband—also a wiry red-head, but with beady eyes—and the son at each stage of life. She paused when she got to the high school graduation pages.

  “Little Alex just got a job with a defense firm. They’re sending him to graduate school.” Her expression darkened. “He still has his black days, but he’s making something of himself. That’s good, right?”

  “He sounds like an amazing kid.” Megan glanced down at the last few pages in the album. “This girl,” she pointed to a pretty, tall, slender brunette standing near Alex in one of the graduation photos. Her resemblance to Harriet was uncanny. “Do you remember her?”

  “How could I forget? Catherine. Kids called her ‘Cat.’ One of the troublemakers.” Dee Dee distanced herself from the album. “A black spot on an otherwise bright sun. She used to make fun of Alex mercilessly.”

  “Did you report it?”

  “Of course. Alex was already a lonely kid. He went there to make things better, not be tormented by some mean-spirited girl with a nose for trouble.”

  “Did the school address the issue?”

  Dee Dee frowned. “Hardly. Her parents were founders. She was untouchable. After we told, she stalked him in the halls. Tortured him.”

  Megan let this sink it. It made sense. They had the money, and with a daughter facing juvenile prison, they had a reason. “As a parent, that must have been infuriating.”

  Dee Dee put her sunglasses back on so that Megan couldn’t read her expression. “Sure, but ain’t that life? Even in a school with kids who have much, some have more.”

  “Doesn’t make it fair.” Echoes of Donna Lewis, Megan thought.

  Dee Dee was determined to put a good face on it. “Just the way life is. Some people meet Romeo, some get the cheating bastard of a husband who watches porn in the basement.” She smiled and shrugged. “We were happy to have the school and grateful for Dr. Star.” She poured herself more tea. “In the end, we didn’t want to make waves.”

  Twenty-One

  Megan arrived at the café just as the sky opened up. Sheets of rain hit the pavement and topped off an already roiling canal as thunder boomed overhead. Megan searched for an umbrella in her truck. Unsuccessful, she pulled an old sweatshirt from behind the seat and used it to run into Washington Acres café.

  Inside, she wiped the water from her eyes. The chill from the air conditioner cooled her
wet skin, and she felt a shiver run through her. She looked up to see the restaurant was empty—except for a lone patron sitting at the counter, reading a book. She immediately recognized the slender neck and narrow shoulders as belonging to Martine Pringle.

  Perfect.

  Megan slipped behind the counter before Martine saw her. She popped into her office to dry off and deposit the sweatshirt. Taking advantage of the relative privacy, she made a quick call to Denver to ask whether he’d spoken to any of his friends yet. He had not; he was on his way to the inn now.

  “Martine is here. I’ll ask her about Chase.”

  “Okay, Megs.” His voice sounded hesitant.

  “What’s wrong? You don’t want me to talk to her?”

  “It’s not that. I just…I got to thinking about our conversation last night. Your grandmother is right. Maybe Martine is someone worth watching. Maybe her efforts to point the police toward Jatin are a ruse.”

  “She’s so tiny. Whoever did that packed a wallop.”

  “We already know she’s a liar.”

  “There’s a pretty big leap from liar to murderer.” Megan heard Alvaro calling her from the kitchen. “I have to go. Call me tonight and let me know how things go?”

  “Aye. I’d stop over but I think it’s going to be a long night. The rain has the animals up in arms. Taylor farm has a cow revolt, and old Mrs. Nudy’s dog is trying to mother a gaggle of ducklings.”

  Megan laughed at the image of Mrs. Nudy’s dog and the ducks. “I should check on Camilla.”

  “Aye, you should. Maybe sit with her for a bit. Or if she likes the goats, let them be together for the evening. This weather scares them.”

  As though on cue, thunder crashed.

  “Love you,” Denver said.

  “I love you too.”

  Megan hung up, feeling uneasy.

  Megan slipped a bowl of Alvaro’s homemade berry crisp across the counter to Martine. “On the house. And it has berries, so you could consider it a fruit salad.”